Insomniac
by SeriesTherapy
Summary: Castle's overactive imagination doesn't let him sleep, so he must find something to help him with that. Based on a Twitter conversation.


_This fic was inspired by a Twitter conversation with encantadaa, Ally Lobster and whatifellinlovewith (CalPal0526). I thought it would be fun to see if I could transform it into a story. So thank you to the three of them for letting me borrow their words (literally), and as always, a huge thank you to my wonderful beta, encantadaa._

 _And also... Happy Birthday, Ally! I hope you like it!_

* * *

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

The hands of the office clock cut through the quietness of the loft, with a sound that seemed deafening in the calm, early fall night. The crescent moon emitted a blue glimmer, although Manhattan's buildings did their best to mask it with their own light. It wasn't necessary to turn on the heating yet, but at night, the temperature outside dropped, creating the best conditions for snuggling under the blankets and sleeping soundly all night.

And that was what everybody seemed to be doing at the moment. Everyone except Castle, that is. Until that moment, he had focused on the ticking of the clock, hoping the rhythmic pulsing of the second hand would lull him to sleep, but it wasn't working. When he opened his eyes, the red LED light of his alarm clock mocked him with its three numbers shining in the darkness of his bedroom. 2:47 AM.

Castle felt a new wave of frustration running through his body, and he was tempted to kick the covers like a child. He didn't, though, instead turning around in search of his serenity. And there she was, her back to him; her favorite position to sleep. Kate Beckett.

Their relationship was new enough to make his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her laying in the bed beside him, her chest rising and falling slowly. Even after three months together- three of the best months of his life. But, the last few weeks, things had changed. Beckett's return to the precinct meant that they couldn't show any sign of their relationship while at work, not even the slightest touch or look, out of fear of the repercussions it would have for Beckett's job. However, they still got to spend all day in each other's company, with the difference that now, they went home together- after a prudential thirty minute wait, of course, so that no one would see them leaving at the same time.

Without a conscious thought, Castle reached a hand to gently caress Beckett's arm. Unfortunately, she was a light sleeper, and the simple gesture was enough to make her stretch lazily.

"Whas the problem?" she slurred.

"Nothing. I'm sorry. Go back to sleep," he said, feeling the guilt over waking her creeping up his spine.

"Mmmkay. 'Night."

"Good night."

After a couple of seconds, he rolled onto his back and let out a deep sigh.

"Cassle, was wrong?" she asked, turning towards him.

"I can't sleep," he whined.

"Think of as many words as you can that start with J or K," she mumbled.

"What?" he chuckled.

"You'll frustrate yourself to sleep. It's weird, but it works."

"Where did you hear that?" he muttered.

"It was accidental advice given to me by my half-asleep mom, who had no idea what she was saying," she explained, more alert now, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"How old were you?"

"I dunno… about five?"

"Cute," he laughed quietly. "Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about it," she assured, giving him a soft peck on the cheek and turning back to her previous position.

The image of a cute little Kate Beckett was too adorable to ignore, so he thought that he might as well give Johanna's technique a try.

Okay, so K… kangaroo. Cool animals, the kangaroos. And they lived in Australia. He had always wanted to go there. It would be a great place to have an adventure. He knew a guy who had gone there for his honeymoon, and he told him that… okay, that had gotten off track very quickly.

He tried again. J… jazz. Beckett loved jazz. The other day, he had caught her singing Sinatra to herself while she cooked breakfast. Her voice had made "Under My Skin" sound incredible. Maybe he could convince her to sing it to him again some time…

Realizing his overactive imagination had done it again, he let out a soft grunt.

"What now?" his partner said, sounding slightly annoyed now.

"It isn't working."

"Why not?"

"I keep making associations between words, and it's waking me up more than anything," he said, clenching his fists. "I'll show you."

"You don't have to-"

"J… K… Rowling," he cut her off. "Man, I'm still mad about Fred. Life's so unfair! Like Ginny's characterization in the movies… See? Now I'm sleepless, sad and pissed off."

"I assume that was a Harry Potter reference, right?" she sighed.

There was a beat of silence, and then…

"A Harry Potter reference?" he asked very slowly. "Haven't you read the books?"

"Mmmm… not yet. I will. Someday." She sounded almost asleep again.

"Excuse me? Are you human?" he said, his voice raised without his consent.

"Please, it's not a big deal," she soothed, trying to calm him down. "I want to read them. I've heard they're really good, and they seem interesting. I just haven't gotten to it."

He bolted upright in the bed, making her gasp at his sudden movement.

" _Seem_ interesting? Seem… Oh, dear. Wait here." He tumbled out of bed in the general direction of the door.

"Where are you going? It's three in the morning!"

"I'll be right back," he threw over his shoulder.

He trotted to the stairs, and once on the second floor, he tiptoed to Alexis's room. The teen was in college, but his mother's bedroom was right across the hall, and he didn't want to wake her up. He made a beeline to the impressive shelf that covered one of the walls of the room and took one of the books that were proudly displayed in the center of the shelf, spines creased from having been read multiple times. His mission accomplished, he went back to Beckett, to find her sitting against the headboard with the nightstand lamp on.

"We're not going to read Harry Potter now, Castle," she said in her serious detective voice.

"Just the first one. We should be able to read the whole book before you have to go to work, if we plan right." While he talked, he took a small light from his nightstand drawer, attached it to the cover of the book and flicked the rest of the lights off.

"Castle…" she all but groaned.

"You're so going to love this, Beckett," he promised, and he immersed himself in the magic words of The Sorcerer's Stone. "Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…"

* * *

When Beckett woke up the next morning, Castle was nowhere in sight. She found it odd, but assumed he would be making her breakfast, like he used to do when he woke up before her. She took a quick shower, dressed for work and went to the kitchen. Still no sign of Castle.

Puzzled, she started the coffee machine (first things first) and went in search of her partner. She found him in his office, sprawled on the couch and snoring softly, the book clutched against his chest. The sight made her smile. That goof! She was dating a nine-year-old, and she had to admit she loved every minute she spent with him.

Careful not to rouse him, she extracted the book from his grasp and put it in her briefcase. It was supposed to be a slow day today. Maybe she'd have the time to read a couple of chapters during her lunch break.

If only to see the joyous expression of her boyfriend when he found out.


End file.
